


With Ears to See and Eyes to Hear

by LightBlueFlower



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightBlueFlower/pseuds/LightBlueFlower
Summary: This was done in collaboration with @dongoverlord on twitter and tumblr
Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia), China/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was done in collaboration with @dongoverlord on twitter and tumblr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so this was supposed to be fore hetabang2020 but I missed the deadline, but I still wanted to post it so here it is! I hope you enjoy this little fic

He received the envelope the morning of his birthday.

That morning was a cold one, as cold as it could get for a February morning in the city of San Francisco, with the previous night's showers drenching the streets with mist, broken apart by the streaks of yellow filtered streetlights that lined the sidewalks.

He had unwillingly woken up before the sun had even risen, the skies a deep blue with grey pollutant clouds stippled over the canvas. Usually he would sleep in, especially since he wanted his birthday to be shorter, but for some godforsaken reason, he found himself wide awake with heavy eyelids, his mind refusing to give in to sleep.

It was not like he had a job to go to, no. That day was technically his last day as a detective of San Francisco’s Major Crimes Unit, and he had no more obligations to the place anymore. He finished his last case yesterday, but he still had to go down to the precinct to pick up some extra items and say a last goodbye before he made his big, cross-country move.

New York City would not have been his first option, with it’s less than desirable weather and it’s incredibly expensive housing that makes Kiku’s wallet want to cry. His coworkers had cried ‘traitor’ when he finally confirmed that he was, indeed, leaving San Francisco to live amongst the ‘Yanks’.

_ “All they like is baseball, for fuck’s sake! They’re not even versatile up there!” _ one of his coworkers had exaggerated, as if Kiku had ever held any energy after a day’s work to play baseball, and as if he ever really went to one of their  _ Home Game Bar Crawl Fiasco _ where whenever the  _ Golden State Warriors _ (or even the  _ San Francisco Giants _ if they really have the time) they would go to the bar near the precinct to get shitfaced as if they were still in their college years.

They got even noisier when he specified that he was going to the Bronx, the conversation immediately steered to sports, making Kiku tune out. 

How could he leave the Golden City, they had asked, with her hills stretching along the planes, up and down fluidly, their peaks reaching towards the open clear blue skies, with her iconic Golden Gate Bridge that string along the strait and glistening under the sunlight above the ocean, shimmering and wonderous, to go to the most miserable, most overrated, and most depressing city in all of America? 

But he’s been desperate to leave his second hometown, desperate to leave these familiar streets that made his stomach churn and the restaurants he’s been to many times alone and the way the buildings would watch his every move,  _ leering _ , waiting for him to slip up.

And this envelope, the one he received that morning, was further confirmation of his decision to leave.

He didn't know what to make of the envelope at first. Yes, it was definitely meant for him, he knew it for sure. His name, Kiku Honda, was not common for the average Japanese living in America, was written in cursive above his address, the fountain pen that was used by whomever leaving little blebs at the end of each stroke, as if the writer had to pause between every other letter to make sure they wrote the information correctly. 

But who sends potentially sensitive government files in a shoddy, black envelope that looked as if it’s been through a rough trip, with traces of coffee stains and fraying edges? And why was there no return address on the corner? Why was the envelope sealed with duct tape and a red wax stamp?

The envelope exuded a chaotic energy that Kiku was half ready to dump it into the trash that was beside the desk he was sitting at, as some sort of sex trafficking spam mail if he weren’t already in a position where he needed that one letter to confirm that he, indeed, have a job waiting for him in New York and he wouldn’t have to job hunt while worrying about making the first rent on time.

He flipped it in his hands a few times, trying to see if there was anything potentially dangerous within the package - a tracking device, a smoke bomb, anything of that sorts- could be felt or seen on the envelope, but all he could feel was the lightness of a single paper inside.

Taking his letter opener - and yes, those old-timey sharp and heavy metal sticks you probably have seen your eldery grandpa use - he stuck the sharp end into a crease on the edge of the envelope and dragged it through with a quick hand. He pulled out the page out of the envelope, appearing to be in much better condition than the carrier that brought them through the slot of his door, though it was poorly handled, with the ink fading through, and the paper itself had an odd film over it that was definitely not lamentation.

On the top left of the letter was a blue insignia with the white and red shield in the middle, wreathe underneath. Yellow stars surrounded the shield in a circle, thirteen in total, with the words ‘Department of Justice’ on the bottom of the circle and ‘Federal Bureau of Investigations’ on the top of the circle.

_ Kiku Honda  
_ _ Suite 505  
_ _ xx Jackson Street   
_ _ San Francisco,CA, 941xxx _

_ Dear Mr. Honda, _

_ Thank you for your confirmation for the job position.  _

_ Congratulations! You are now officially a part of the FBI team! Enclosed in this letter are further instructions upon your arrival to New York City, as well as your starting date, time and address to meet the rest of the team. We look forward to seeing you in person! _

_ Sincerely yours,  _

_ Michael B. White _

_ Director _

He glared at the writing, scrutinizing how informal the writing on the page read, and looked back into the package. Was this a joke? The writing on the paper is incredibly vague, lacking any information whatsoever. Is this how most acceptance letters are like? He would expect something more formalized as well. This looked like somebody pieced together last minute, a trivial task they had pushed to the hour before mailing it off.

Not only that, there was nothing else left in the envelope for him to look at. And there were a few suspicious errors on the form itself, from the misplaced writing on the logo ('Department of Justice' was always along the top half of the circle) and the director's last name is spelled with 'y', not an 'i'. What kind of idiot wrote this letter?

_...Huh? _

His scowl quickly softened, the cogs in his mind spinning as he stared at the paper, and he could feel a slight grin grow on his face as he stood up from his chair, leaning over to his night lamp that sat on the desk and turning it off. 

_ A smart idiot wrote this,  _ he thought as he walked towards the only window in his room that stood above the head of his now empty mattress, and pulled the curtains down quickly with a pull of the string, engulfing the bedroom in darkness.

After his eyes adjusted itself to the dark setting, he went back to his desk, and peered into the cardboard box where he had placed all of his desk items into, rummaging through the files until he took out a long black device, with a long light bulb attached to it. He quickly flicked the switch on the device to the ‘ON’ side, bluish-violet streaks shining down onto the desk, as he placed the sheet of paper underneath the lamp.

The page illuminated underneath the black light, covered in swirly cursive writing that shone a neon blue on the top of the page, overlapping the typed out letters slightly. 

_ Start date: February 16th 20xx. _

_ Time: 1300-1400 _

_ Location: 356, _____ Avenue, Brooklyn _

_ Casual clothes. Wear a Nets cap. Order three large coffees, all black. Take a seat on the table closest to the washroom. _

_ P.S. Burn this. _

Kiku made a quiet note over the content, taking out a piece of notepad paper, a faded yellow, using the black pen that he always uses to etch down symbols in his native tongue. 

二 十六日  
13時  
三百五十九

He squinted at the last line. Whoever wrote this sure was prideful. That, or he wanted Kiku to look inconspicuous. But three large coffees for one also seems very odd. It would have seemed less suspicious if he left with a tray.

_ What exactly did he get himself into? _

His phone started beeping a familiar tune - an alarm he used to have in order to ensure he left his apartment in time to make it to the precinct. He neatly packed away the black light with the note he had just written, taking the letter into hand, shoving it in his pocket. 

He’ll deal with it later.

Kiku quietly walked down the hallway to the front, glancing over into the living room towards the couch. A white fluff sat on top of one of the seats, raising up and down gently, light snores emitting from its place. He continued towards the front, not wanting to wake up the slumbering beast that was his dog - he didn’t need him barking up a storm early in the morning and disturbing their neighbors, even though they will never see him again after today- and slipped on his shoes. 

He unlocked the lock of the front door gently, exiting as quickly as he could with a key in hand to lock the door immediately, before making his way down the hallway towards the ominous metal door that revealed the buildling’s staircase. The building’s elevators are supposedly functioning, but Kiku had wasted too much time waiting for the elevator to get to the fifth floor; he knew that it wasn’t worth the wait.

The morning air, frosty and cold, hit his face as he left the building, and he pulled the neck of his turtleneck to cover his mouth and nose, pushing through towards the sidewalk. The sun started to rise further up in the sky, illuminating the street with a light yellow shade.

By the time he reached the precinct, the night shift staff were leaving with bags under their squinting eyes and half empty paper cups in their hand, the day shift staff starting to stream in with wide eyes and smiles on their faces. 

“You got real guts showing your face here,” a gruff voice spoke as a hand reached around his shoulder as a familiar body pushed them both into the elevator that opened, Kiku allowing himself to follow through, already knowing who it was.

“Good morning, Yong Soo,” Kiku said without glancing towards his way as he pushed the button for the 4th floor, letting Yong Soo hang off him as he leaned forward, strands of his dark brown hair hanging off, a little curl sticking out from the rest.

“Did I sound threatening?” Yong Soo asked as his voice returned to it’s naturally lighter tone, bubblier than Kiku would like it to be this early in the morning. “I’m really trying to sound sexy, like Bruce Willis.”

“As threatening as Pochi, yes,” Kiku replied, as Yong Soo gave a small pout. 

“I’m still sad you’re taking him away from me,” Yong Soo sighed as he blinked his big brown eyes towards Kiku, just as Pochi, his dog, would do as he would beg for another treat, his thick eyebrows pulled up in a frown. “My heart aches everytime I think about him leaving me for New York!”

“He’s my dog,” Kiku replied, but Yong Soo didn’t seem to hear him as he continued his melodrama.

“He’d have way more fun here with his Uncle Yong Soo!” Yong Soo huffed. “Are there even mountains there?!”

“A few,” Kiku lied, not really knowing what would be considered mountainous on that side of the country, but he assumed that there should be places to hike. “He’ll live.”

“But I won’t,” Yong Soo replied, taking a pen - the one he always kept on him - from his breast pocket, getting off of Kiku as he glanced up towards the top of the elevator doors, where the numbers changed with each floor they rose up to. “It’s going to be lonely without him around. And you too.””

“You know, if you miss Pochi so much, you may always visit us,” Kiku proposed with a hushed smile. Despite the oddity of their personalities, Kiku and Yong Soo have actually become quite close during Kiku’s many years at the precinct. When Yong Soo started in their department, he had just passed the testing to become a detective, right after completing two years of being a police officer, a minimum requirement in San Francisco before one can become a detective. 

Back then, he had the energy of a fresh rookie, big eyed and overly excited with every new case, always wanting the newest homicides and the most difficult cases to prove himself capable. Kiku, at the time, was quite the opposite, being a seasoned detective and 5 years his senior, accepting any case obediently, but not hounding the captain for cases that he wasn’t assigned to. 

Kiku wasn’t sure why their captain decided to pair them up - Kiku thought it was because, well, since Kiku was relatively new to the team compared to the rest of the team, the captain assumed it would be easier for Yong Soo to relate to him and for Kiku to guide him through the precinct culture and how to handle the crime scene as a novice. He never pried for an answer from the captain, assuming that he would just avoid getting too close to Yong Soo, and maintain a cordial coworker relationship with him.

But, somehow, the young detective was persistent for his partner to hang out with him after a shift, something that Kiku would usually refrain from participating in, and eventually, Kiku found himself a brotherly bond he never experienced before. 

“Well, I might be able to visit here and there, but that means I’m crashing at your place, bro,” Yong Soo said, as he twirled his pen between his fingers. Kiku never really liked when he did it; he found Yong Soo’s fidgeting to be distracting. 

"You can sleep on the floor, sure," Kikue quipped with an unwavering tone. 

"Can't you be a bit kinder to me? It is your birthday, after all," Yong Soo said, grinning wisely when Kiku stared at him with a blank face, blinking a few times, taken aback. "What, did ya think I was gonna forget?"

"I don't even remember my own birthday sometimes," Kiku replied, fixing him face back towards the front of the elevator. Which wasn't a lie. Up until the actual date of his birthday, Kiku tends to forget about his birthday, finding it to be more of an unnecessary detail to remember after he had turned 22 some few years ago.

"Your memory is reflecting your age," Yong Soo tested, swaying forward playfully. "How old are you now? 40?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Kiku scoffed, now taken aback in offense by the age he gave him. " 32."

"That  _ is _ old," Yong Soo replied, as he opened the bag that he held in a hand and started to rummage through it.

"You'll get there in 5 years, don't worry."

"Not unless I die," Yong Soo laughed as he fished out a medium-sized purple gift bag, giving it to Kiku. "Here ya go. Happy birthday~!"

"I don't need a gift," Kiku started, looking at the bag with it's little, white bow sitting on one side, clearly hand-tied with creases throughout to show the multiple failed attempts it took for the ribbon to be tied.

Yong Soo gave a tsk sound, and shoved the bag to his chest, "This isn't something you can reject. And think of it as a goodbye present!"

“I-” Yong Soo immediately let go, allowing the gift to fall, forcing Kiku to hold onto it so it didn’t hit the floor. 

Kiku peered through the white tissue wrapping within the bag, and saw a wooden board inside. He placed a hand inside to push open the wall of the back, and could see writing across the board, and a row of black letters on the bottom, with the words ‘Yes’ and ‘No on the corners.

“Seriously?” Kiku asked, immediately knowing what it was, looking back at Yong Soo, who was appearing to hold back his laughter. 

The elevator dinged when they reached their designated floor, and Yong Soo practically skipped out of the elevator, Kiku following suit.

“Do you like it?” Yong Soo asked as he walked backwards, reaching an arm back to open the little swinging door that seperated the rest of the floor from the elevator and the holding cell they had on the floor. “I thought it would come in handy on your new cases!”

“You do know that Ouiji boards don’t actually work, right?” Kiku replied, walking through, and towards the corner of the floor where his desk - well, now his old desk - sat, right across from Yong Soo’s desk.

The metallic desk, for the most part, was barren, except for the typical office appliances such as the stapler, and the pencil holder, and the box that is the computer that hasn’t been replaced since it was first installed in the mid-2000s. There were some extra files and items that have accumulated from Kiku’s many years of working at the precinct, however, that he wanted to retrieve. And while they were not exactly important items, they held plenty of sentimental value that Kiku wanted to take with him to New York. 

“You sure? Because I tried it out with a friend once,” Yong Soo started, before rattling on about how somehow, during a cottage trip with a group of college friends (where they obviously had more than a couple of drinks), him and his friends used a Ouji board and Yong Soo  _ swore _ they weren’t moving the little peddle that came with it, but the peddle was somehow moving by itself!

Kiku didn’t want to explain the phenomenon behind the Ouji board to Yong Soo, knowing that he wouldn’t listen even if he presented it in a picture book, and silently listened as he opened his messenger bag, opening the cabinets as he started to neatly place the files inside. 

There were a few photos in one of the cabinets, photos of Kiku throughout his years at the precinct with his coworkers. Most of them included Yong Soo, who liked to carry around a disposable camera way back when, and would attempt to take selfies with Kiku. Kiku hadn’t changed; at least, he thought he didn’t look much different from how he did when he first started. Same black bangs, same length. Right before entering the force, he had to shave his head extremely short, but luckily his hair grew out fast. 

Yong Soo, on the other hand, seemed to have a different look with each photo; he was always up to date with the latest trends, changing his hairstyle as it goes. The one he had now, with the middle part and the dyed brown hair, was the one he had the longest for. It might be a permanent look for him- he’s not as young as he used to be. 

Hearing Yong Soo while looking at the photos made Kiku slightly nostalgic - he could feel sadness swell up in him, knowing that he was going to be leaving all of this, all the comfort, the familiarity, and the friendship, behind to pursue his new job across the country. 

But he knew he had to do this for his own sake.

“Anyways,” Yong Soo said once he finished his story. “That’s not actually my gift. That’s, like, my joke gift. Your serious gifts are inside.”

To this, Kiku raised his eyebrows. “Gifts?”

“Hell yeah! Check it out yourself,” Yong Soo replied, a softer smile on his face, not the wicked one he had before. “I think you’d like all of it.”

Kiku reached for the bag that sat on the corner of the desk while he cleaned, gingerly opening it. He reached inside, about to rummage through the tissue for Yong Soo’s ‘true’ gifts.

“Honda.”

His heart jumped to his throat with a loud  _ lub dub  _ and Kiku immediately pulled his hand back, glancing over towards the source of the voice, knowing who it belonged to and praying he could melt into the floor. He held his breath for a split second before inhaling deeply, but subtly, trying to steady his heart.

A man, a few years older than Kiku, stood against the frame of the doorway, wearing the standard deep navy blue police uniform. The edges of his collar were studded with the gold metal piece with double rectangles attached together with two thinner pieces, and a gold star sitting over his left breast pocket, the words  _ Captain _ and  _ Police  _ etched into the metal in blue. His strands of blond hair, the longer ones on top of his head that eventually fades to his neck, were pulled back tighter than even the man would like, but Kiku found it showed off his face nicely.

The collar of his uniform was hugging his neck tighter than it normally would, Kiku immediately noticed, and his tie was approximately 1 cm higher as well. Not necessarily a noticeable thing for most, not warranting such a deep analysis, but he knew exactly why the man was wearing his neck that way.

Or moreso,  _ why  _ he was  _ hiding  _ his neck that way.

“Are you picking up a few things?” the man asked, his voice deep and low, stating the obvious as if Kiku were not holding a cardboard box with a few folders and his knick-knacks inside, but Kiku knew he couldn’t avoid a conversation from happening as he had hoped to do.

He instead nodded, and said in the most even tone he could use, “Yes. I did not want to burden the floor with having to throw out my belongings. Yong Soo does that enough.”

“C’mon, it’s not like I ask or wait around for someone to do it!” Yong Soo exclaimed as he slid his chair and spun to face between them, glancing between the two. “Besides, he wanted to say a last goodbye to everyone before going to the east coast.”

_ Not everyone _ , Kiku thought, trying not to clench his teeth in frustration, an evident flexion not needed at the moment. 

“I’m glad you decided to pay us one last visit,” the captain continued, eyes never straying away from him.

“Of course.”

“By the way, Honda,” the captain said as he stood up straight. “Once you’re done packing, I need to speak to you in my office about your last few cases.”

"Give him a break, Captain Lars!” Yong Soo laughed. “You can’t go around giving him orders anymore!”

“Yes, but I can still give them to you,” Lars said, slight amusement flashing over his face in the form of pulling in eyebrows as his eyes glinted.

“I just finished getting everything, actually,” Kiku interrupted, eyes never leaving Lars. 

“Yong Soo! We might have a lead on the Davis case!” one of their coworkers hollered from across the room from his desk, quickly slipping into his coat as he walked towards them.

“Shit, really?” Yong Soo replied, as he left his bag on his chair, zipping up his bomber jacket as he started to walk towards their coworker. He looked at Kiku quickly, and said, “Still dropping you off tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, see you then,” Kiku replied as Yong Soo gave a quick wave to both him and Lars, before following their coworker out of the floor towards the elevator. 

Kiku started to walk towards Lars, leaving his bag behind on the desk. The closer he got to Lars, the more evident the scar that ran along the right side of his temple was, being much paler than his already ivory complex. He slid through the door and waited nearby his desk, waiting for Lars to close the door tightly and initiate the conversation. The office space was a cozy one. The floors are lined with a plushed blue streaked with green pattern, and a reclining chair behind the desk.

“Detective Lin has found a lineup of suspects based on what you've suggested to us," Lars started as he went behind his desk and opened a manilla dossier that was already sitting beside his computer monitor, pushing it forward towards Kiku. "Take a look."

With the tips of his fingers, he traces along the side of the first page, a picture of a man with his back against a, coloured and resized to fit the entire page, staring back at him. He flipped through the pages, 5 in total, and skimming over the 

"All seem to fit the description I was given," Kiku replied monotonously, glancing back up to Lars.

Lars stared at him for a moment. “Which one is likely the suspect.”

It was an order, not a question.

Kiku spread the pages horizontally on the table before tucking his hands into his trench coat pocket, taking a look at each photo from left to right. Silence fell over them, and Kiku shut all of his senses off to everything except for the pictures in front of him, tuning out the sounds, the chatter, the phone ringing, emitting from the office until it was white sound, nothing more than a buzz.

_ 160 cm. White skin, brown stubble along the jaws. Short, straight, brown hair. Round, sharp edged, green eyes. Wide nose, flared nostrils. Thin lips, prominent cupid’s bow. _

_ 165 cm. White skin, wrinkles along the eyes and his forehead. Short, wavy, brown hair. Round, green eyes. Wide nose, tight nostrils. Thin lips, slight discolouration. _

_ 160 cm. White skin, noticeable red pigmentations around the cheeks. Short, fringed, brown hair. Round, green eyes, slightly droopy compared to the previous one. Thin nose, tip raised. Prominent cupid’s bow, thin bottom lip. _

_ 166 cm. Similar to the first one, only with a much thinner face structure, and thicker, unruly brows. _

_ 164 cm. White skin, light brown freckles along the nose. Short, straight brown hair. Round, green eyes. Thin, skewed to the left nose. Thin lips with a light scar. _

His gut was pushing him to look closer at the second and last photo, and narrowing down between the details of the photos. A sudden chill ran down his neck across his back, reaching down his arms and wrapping around his hands, deftly over his index finger, but he didn’t look away. 

A whisper, a tiny whisper, entered his ear as he stared intently at the last photo.

_ “It’s him.” _

“It’s him,” Kiku said as he placed a finger on the last photo, looking back at Lars, who was watching him intensely, his arms crossed over his chest. 

Lars leaned over and took the paper from underneath his hand, turning it over to look at the photograph. He glanced over to Kiku after a good moment, Lars’ green eyes, deep and cold, searching his face for a break in his neutral facade, but Kiku stayed put, waiting for him to speak the first word.

“I’ll let Linh know,” Lars replied as he started to gather the rest of the pages into a pile, tapping the bottom parts against the table to straighten them. Kiku stood still, watching, waiting for Lars to dismiss him, but the Captain continued to put the pages in the folder, and placing it in the first desk drawer to his left.

“Is that all you wanted to ask me?” Kiku spoke up as Lars paused in the middle of closing the drawer, before closing with fully with a soft  _ thump. _ A silence filled the air and Kiku could feel his throat drying, his heart being faster, trying his best not to make a sound as he inhaled and exhaled gently. 

Lars gestured towards the chair reserved for guests directly in front of it, indicating for Kiku to sit down, but when Kiku stood there, not moving a muscle, Lars leaned against the desk instead.

Kiku didn’t want to sit down.

He didn’t want to be close to him. 

He didn’t want to be near him.

He didn’t want to be able to smell that cologne that he always wore and loved having all over his body. He didn’t want to be able to be so close that he reached over for his hands, his big, rough hands that felt nice running up his legs, his thighs, his waist. He didn’t want to be in the same predicament that he was caught in a few weeks ago deep into the night, with his shirt falling over his shoulder, on top of the desk with his hands roaming his back.

“When are you leaving?” 

“Tomorrow,” Kiku replied courtly, trying not to flinch at how commanding his voice was, his voice resonating through the room and into his ears. Lars continued to look at with piercing eyes, his beautiful, piercing green eyes that made Kiku feel all sorts of ways, his mouth unmoving, and Kiku felt obliged to continue through a dry throat, “My plane leaves in the evening.”

“...Kiku,” Lars took a step forward towards him, hands raising up towards his arms. Kiku nearly flinched when his hands touched him, but he couldn’t move. 

He didn’t want to move.

He wanted this. He knew he wanted this. 

He wanted more. 

But he shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t. It’s too late to repair anything now, it wasn’t as if whatever he felt for Lars was going to change his plans. Kiku’s eyes roamed down to his hand - his right hand. Lars wasn’t wearing his ring anymore. He hasn’t worn it since the last time they’ve been together, the place where the band once was only a thin white line against his pale skin.

Was Kiku a homewrecker? No, he wasn’t. How can you be a homewrecker if the home was already ruined? 

Lars and his wife were technically separated, simply sharing the same house. Kiku didn’t know that she wanted to make things work with him, neither of them knew, not even Lars. Right? Lars wouldn't have hid something so crucial from Kiku.

But still, the fact that they were caught in this very room by his wife, a young woman in tears claiming she was trying to make everything work out for them. They were lucky that most of the office wasn’t in the room to witness, and the door was closed for the most part; Kiku was more worried about the office finding out how he is a ‘fag’ (their words, not his) than being a homewrecker who ruined the Captain’s already falling apart marriage.

Kiku was luckier in that, by the time this whole scandal was revealed to Lars’ ex-wife, he had already applied for the job that would take him to New York City and had received a more or less confirmation that he had the job, even though the confirmation was very informal and over the phone. All he had to do was wait for the letter, the letter he was looking at this morning, that sealed his fate permanently.

“Can I see you tonight?”

Kiku couldn’t look up. No, no, no, why was his throat starting to swell with emotion? 

“I…” Kiku started, the sound of his voice barely making its way through his throat, but it managed to escape from his mouth in a high pitch. He cleared his throat. No. He can do this. Rip it off like a bandaid. “I haven’t packed my luggage for my plane ride so I can’t.”

_ I’m sorry. _

“I have to leave, now,” Kiku continued awkwardly, and started to make his way towards the door, reaching towards the door knob

“Kiku.” Lars suddenly spoke up, making his hand hover over the knob, frozen in his step. Kiku did not turn back, but stood there and waited. 

“Your eyes…” Lars started, before hesitantly pausing, as if he couldn’t find the words to continue. Then he spoke again in a surer tone, “Your eyes can see more than most can. And your mind is twice as sharp. Make sure you show your new team what you’re made of.”

Kiku gritted his teeth, feeling the swelling his throat grow.

“Thank you... for everything,” Kiku said calmly. He opened the door, and before he took another step, he gave one last look at Lars, who was now looking at the floor in front of him, his mouth pulled into a thin line.

He didn’t say anything more as he took another step outside of his office, the strings around his heart not pulling him back.

* * *

As he left the elevator onto his floor, he could hear light barking emitting from inside his apartment, growing louder as he came closer to the door.

“I’m home,” Kiku said as he walked through the door, slipping out of his shoes as he heard the little padded footsteps across the wooden floors skittering towards him quickly. A small, floof of white barked as he wagged his tail around, making circles in front of Kiku, as he moved his head towards Kiku then towards the direction of the living room.

“Are you bothering Mr. Li again?” Kiku asked with a small chuckle, and the dog barked once again, before bounding away, disappearing into the living room behind a white wall. 

He still had the letter shoved into his trench coat pocket, and he wanted to get rid of it as soon as he could, not wanting to drop it accidently on some random bend and risk jeopardizing his position. Kiku knew the importance of keeping this letter a secret, and he didn’t want to start his new job on the wrong foot.

Kiku walked through the opening right by the door, into the kitchen, vacant and clean save for the single plate, bowl, mug, kettle, and chopsticks he had kept, towards the gas stove with no signs of grease around the stovetop. There was a single rag, a new one he had recently bought to make the place seem a bit nicer, hanging on the oven handle underneath the stove. .He twisted the knob for the lower left stovetop, the fire flickering and dancing underneath black coil, and he placed the letter on top. The flames became taller and brighter, as black started to seep through the letter, expanding itself as the flames burned through the middle, eating the page up. He watched carefully as smoke started to build up, and when he saw the last bit of the edges start to disintegrate, he turned off the gas immediately, and used the rag to hit the remaining flames out. 

Luckily, the fire alarm was not set off, but he wanted to make sure it doesn’t make a sound. He started making his way towards the living room, now vacant save for the couch he no longer wanted to bring with him, having been worn down from being used for over a decade, leaving it for the garbage removal people to pick up later in the evening. Pochi was sitting on top of the couch, tail wagging as he started to bark, looking up towards the empty seat beside him.

To normal people, Pochi would seem like a blissfully stupid dog, barking with excitment and playing with nothing in the air. Not to say that he wasn’t blissfully stupid, that’s absolutely the biggest reason why Kiku had kept him to begin with, besides the fact that a final gift from his mother before she had passed away a few years ago. However, there was another reason why Kiku kept Pochi so close to him, to the point where he would be more than willing to pay extra to take him to New York City with him.

“Stop harassing Mr. Li, Pochi,” Kiku replied as he crossed the room towards the balcony, opening the door slightly.

“ _ It’s okay,” _ a voice, soft and croaking hummed. Kiku looked towards the “empty” seat where Pochi was staring at, the translucent figure of an elderly man sitting there happily as a hand patted Pochi’s head. “ _ He’s a good boy _ .”

“I know you like to have a quiet morning,” Kiku replied. “Would you like some tea, Mr. Li?”

_ “That would be excellent, yes, _ ” Mr. Li replied, a smile on his wrinkled face appearing, as he looked towards Kiku.  _ “I will miss your company very much, Kiku. Do you know if the new tenants can see me? _ ”

“I do not think so,” Kiku admitted as he returned back to the kitchen, grabbing the kettle off of the corded base, and started to run the water from the tap. “You can always manifest in front of them though.”

“ _ It’s not the same, _ ” Mr. Li scoffed. “ _ People are afraid whenever an unknown entity manifests before them. You were the first to not be afraid of me in 30 years. _ ”

“I’m still surprised you stuck around this land for that long,” Kiku replied. “Are you sure you do not wish to pass on? I can arrange a ceremony before I leave.”

“ _ I am as sure as I am dead, _ ” Mr. Li replied with a light laugh.  _ “I suppose resting would be a nice thing to do. But there are so many things that I have witnessed that I thought would never exist. And I am curious to know how the world would change in a few more decades _ .”

“Well, whenever you get fed up with Earth, make sure to leave a memo for the new tenants to give you a proper funeral,” Kiku said with a warm smile, as he pulled a tea bag from the box of green tea he had kept for himself. “They didn’t seem to mind the legend around this apartment. If anything, they found it exciting that someone was murdered here. Probably a pair of ghost-seeking fanatics.”

“ _ If they're looking for thrills, I’ll be sure to display a spectacle.” _

Kiku hummed in response, as he started to prepare the tea, carefully pouring the hot water into the mug as the tea bag started to stain the liquid in a brownish-green. 

This was an everyday occurrence since the day Kiku moved into this apartment. It was the cheapest one he could find, and for a good reason; nearly every single tenant before him left in fear due to claiming to see  _ “an old man with a slit across his throat” _ , and the building was desperate for anyone to take it that they lowered the rate further fare below the market value. 

For Kiku, it was perfect. Sure there was a ghost hanging around, but as long as they weren’t a malicious ghost or a vengeful spirit looking for revenge, he could live with it. 

Well, he has been living with it throughout his entire life.

Ghosts, spirits, poltergeists...whatever you called those who were dead physically and living in a non-material way; Kiku had always been able to see them since his childhood days, from his earliest memory of the ghost of a salaryman who had hung himself in the apartment across from his back in Tokyo, hanging about in the living room staring at everyone with a broken neck, not being able to make a sound.

He glanced over to the stove where he burnt the letter, the charcoal still on top of the coil.

_ The Department of Paranormal Investigations _ was a concept he had heard of in TV shows like the ever- so popular  _ The X-Files _ , but he never thought it would be a legitimate department under the FBI.

It was Lars who had told him about considering applying to the program, one night as they were laying in bed, while Kiku explained to this part of his life that he had only ever really told Yong Soo, after he had pestered him about revealing his secret of knowing who a murderer was with such precision. 

He only revealed this fact to Yong Soo after 2 years into their partnership, though, and he was hesitant about revealing it. The young Korean took it in strides, surprisingly, and was much more amped about it than Kiku had expected him to be.

_ “That means you can talk to the victims and give us a direction to work with,” _ Yong Soo had said, a devious grin as he stroked the non existent stubble on his chin. That week, he was attempting to let it grow out - he claimed that a stubble would make him look wiser. “ _ And  _ **_that_ ** _ means we don’t have to stay behind so late! _ ”

To which, Kiku had to explain that that’s on the fortune that the victim turns into a non-malicious spirit who manifests themselves benignly to them, and on the luck that the victim even remembers anything around their death and is even willing to talk to begin with.

Kiku was surprised with himself when he revealed this part of him to Lars, especially after only knowing him for a year after his assignment as their precinct's captain, and after only fucking around with him for a few months. But clearly, after-sex makes you feel a sort of way, where you feel as thought you could confide in the person you felt so intimate with.

Just as he had felt with Yong Soo, Kiku had assumed that Lars would not have taken him seriously. After all, the ability to see ghosts was something of fiction, much more the ability to see the victims spirit hanging about and being able to communicate with them to figure out who was likely the murder suspect was...a far fetched idea, even for Kiku to admit. However, the basis of 

"What day is it today?" Mr. Li hummed suddenly.

"February 11th," Kiku replied after a moment, as he brought the cup towards the living room, careful not to spill anything. 

"Ah, so it is," Mr. Li replied. "It is your birthday as well, is it not?"

"Yeah, but I don't care much for it.”

_ Not like it’s something worth celebrating. _

“Irregardless, I wish you longevity and that you live up to a hundred years,” Mr. Li hummed.

“Thank you,” Kiku replied softly.

_ I don’t think I will, though. _


	2. Chapter 2

“Arf, arf, arf!”

“Pochi!” Kiku exclaimed as the tiny dog ran between his legs, circulating around him before bounding off, wag tailing as he rolled across the floor. He luckily caught himself just in time before the box he was holding, labelled _“CAUTION FRAGILE”_ in black sharpie across every side, could topple out of his hands. 

“At least one of us is excited,” Kiku hummed as Pochi started to chase his tail, obliviously trying to chase the white fuzzy stub that was his tail. 

Despite the difficulty of having to sweep and mop the entire apartment floor, realizing that the previous owner must have left the unit quite a while back before Kiku moved in, he was finding the move to be much easier than he expected it to be. He had spent a good, long week in this apartment, trying to make the place livable and homely, while finding the time to familiarize with the nearby shops that lay in the enclave in his Brooklyn home.

Despite Brooklyn (besides the Bronx, of course) having a reputation for being a dangerous place, “a hotbed for criminal activity”, as Yong Soo has said, Kiku found that it wasn’t nearly as bad as a lot of people made it out to seem. Sure, he did suspect that his neighbour, whom he saw in passing, was a drug dealer from the amount of times he had left in the middle of the night with a cap and an oversized hoodie, shoving his hands deep into the hoodie pocket as if trying to keep something hidden, but it wasn’t as if he heard gunfire every single night, as Yong Soo had made it out to seem. The most noise that he experienced were people yelling loudly on the streets at night and the occasional argument, just like he would hear from his old apartment in San Francisco, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing- if anything, it was just a part of the city living. 

He turned into the space that led to his bedroom to one side and the bathroom immediately across, with a slim, double door closet against the wall in between the two rooms. Kiku reached with a hand, carefully balancing the box on one arm, and opened both doors quickly, revealing a column of shelves evenly spaced out up until the ground.

In the middle shelf, there was a photo of a woman facing the camera with a smile, her long black hair hanging loosely over her shoulder with a middle part, warm, brown eyes staring back at Kiku that smiled with her mouth. Ms. Ayame Honda looked so young, yet she was reaching her 40s by the time this photo was taken. If there were a god out there, wherever they may be, Kiku would assume that his family genetics were blessed by the god, but that was the only blessing they ever gave. 

Everything else the god has given them, was a curse.

He placed the box on the floor, as he opened it with an exacto knife he had in his pocket, splicing through the tape. He hoped that the warnings around the box had made the movers handle it with caution; it didn’t contain fancy china, but the items within were priceless, being passed on for generations. 

The Honda family, however small it was, had quite the history of communicating with ghosts- it wasn’t as if his so-called ‘gift’ was anything new. From what he had gathered, it started with an ogamisama, a blind woman who was a spiritual medium, back towards the end of the Keio period in Japan, living somewhere in the Miyagi prefecture. When the Meiji period rolled in, she was forced to no longer be an itako, and she moved to Aomori prefecture where the laws would not be able to affect her as much as it would otherwise, and to continue her practice. Unfortunately (or fortunately, whichever way you wanted to see it), she ended up pregnant with a child and married to a man of negligible stature, in a small town that Kiku does not remember. 

The family continued on, with supposedly only one person being able to communicate with the dead every generation, inheriting this gift from the itako ancestor. It wasn’t as if they ever explicitly continued the practice - the art was lost by the turn of the 21st century, and even if there was a relative who had the ability to see the dead, it wasn’t as if they were open about it. They actually thought that the gift had completely expelled itself, skipping his grandmother’s generation.

Until, at least, at the ripe young age of 6, his mother made it clear during a funeral for her beloved grandmother that Obaasan was sitting next to her, so why are they saying that she’s gone?

But it didn’t come with much wonder and happiness as one would think it would.

If anything, his mother said that ever since she openly made it explicit that she was able to see spirits, it made the rest of the family wary about her, wary about her bringing a curse around them, despite the Honda family being started by a blind shaman who communicated with the dead. The isolation got worse as his mother got older, when she started to study and pursue shamanism while studying to become an accountant, attempting to reconnect with her ancestry, and she started to work as a medium full time in their hometown.

To Kiku, she was an amazing person that helped people find closure with their loved ones, from the expected to the unexpected. But to the rest of the town, she was the local hoax, the shrewd who was taking advantage of those who were grieving. Kiku remembered the way kids around his age would avoid him, even pick on him and push him down if he got too close to them, taunting him. And when Kiku’s father, a man he barely remembers now, left them when he was just 8 years old, she uprooted their life in their small town to the city of Sapporo, where she pulled a double shift - she was an accountant by day, and medium by night and days off.

They left Sapporo when a man - his eventual stepfather- married her and essentially helped her land in San Francisco, where she continued to work as a medium as well as an accountant. So, not only did Kiku have a difficult time adjusting to a new country, he was faced with having to deal with a stepdad that he barely even liked to begin with and had to slowly warm up to him. 

It was unfortunate that Kiku didn’t have much time to develop their relationship together; he regrets that if he wasn’t so cold in the beginning, he would have been more receptive to his stepfather being more of a father figure in his life. His stepfather unfortunately died from a chronic illness while Kiku was entering college, leaving Kiku once again alone with his mother, who had to grieve twice for someone she loved.

Really, it has always been this way - just him and his mom. 

His mother would often work with the objects in this box, originating from the itako, and it had a special place in the prayer closet, as his mother liked to call it.

Within the box was another, smaller, black wooden box, closed with a clamp that sealed it shut. Kiku immediately picked it up and placed it on an empty shelf, being mindful not to move it around harshly, fearing he would hurt the contents within. He had only looked into the box once in his life, while his mother was in the middle of maintaining the content as she did once in a blue moon, being mindful that the box was not hers and that she was merely serving the contents. There were a few items within, but the one item that stood out to Kiku the most was the skull, yellowing with age and hollowed out eye sockets and nostrils, baring its sharp teeth towards Kiku, almost alive with glistening saliva, that he vowed never to look inside the box ever again, in fear that the skull would be possessed and come after him. The supposed cause of death for the dog was nightmare fuel as well; the ritual to obtain the skull is by leaving a dog in the ground, with only it’s head exposed from the ground, looking at a pile of food that was far enough for the dog’s tongue not to reach. The dog would eventually die, and the spirit of the dog would aid the itako with giving her information about the dead from the patrons home.

Though, it doesn’t apply much to them, since his mother can see ghosts and could summon them through other ways to receive information.

Kiku hasn’t seen any spirit dogs hanging around their home, but to be on the safe side, be sure to buy some apples as an offering when he goes out grocery shopping. The last thing he needed was some dehydrated dog spirit to come and haunt him in his new home.

A black, cylinder made out of bamboo laid beside the box, roughly the size of Kiku’s palm. According to his mother, the cylinder is one of the most valuable item for an itako to have; it was the vessel that helped trap the spirits they were 

An irataka nenju, a necklace that was made of circular, brown beads, alternating between a dark shade and a lighter one, a relic from the Meiji itako, was the next object in the box that Kiku picked out. Supposedly, they were made with bones from an animal of an inari, though he wasn’t sure how accurate that was. There were also claw-like shapes attached to the ends of the necklace, from an eagle, she claimed, which were more believable than a fox.

He arranged the items along the shelves, fishing out the long box of incense, sticking it onto a golden colour incense holder. Kiku took his lighter out - he was trying to quit smoking, but since the Lars incident blew up in his face, he found it harder to let go - and lit the incense stick, the tip burning a bright orange, before slowly shifting down. The aroma, agarwood mixed with herbs mixed with sandalwood and other herbs, wafted from the burnt part of the stick, and Kiku inhaled deeply, warmth in his body at the familiarity of the scent.

He loved the smell. It made him feel at home. 

It made him feel safe.

Kiku stared at this mother’s image, at her soft, smiling face. She died too soon. The gift of seeing ghosts was a double edged sword. It was a blessing to be able to see the dead and bring closure and comfort to so many. But it was a curse for the ghostseers, who always died a ruthless death. 

_And perhaps I…_

Kiku left the closet door open, and made his way out of his apartment, where a few more boxes labelled ‘FRAGILE KITCHEN’ sat on the wooden flooring of the hallway. He carefully picked up the boxes, stacking them from largest to smallest, ensuring he could properly balance it on his arms, and started to make his way into the kitchen slowly, being careful as to not draw Pochi’s attention on him. 

He gently placed the boxes on the countertop, and started to splice through the tape with his exacto knife. Glasses, mugs, plates, bowls... Kiku sorted through the boxes and arranged them in their appropriate spots, shifting between the hallway and the kitchen to clear the hallway.

Arriving at the last box, Kiku pulled out a few fruit-shaped ice trays (he couldn't help it, he was a sucker for cute knick knacks), and started to fill the tray with water, before heading towards the white fridge to place it into the freezer on the top. 

In front of the fridge door, there was a little sticky note. He looked at the note he had kept stuck on the fridge the moment he entered his apartment, after his long and tedious flight to John F. Kennedy the day before, feeling his mouth run dry as he read the words he wrote. 

二 十六日  
13時  
三百五十九

His “start day” was tomorrow, and he wasn’t sure whether to feel excited or nervous. With every hour that passed, he felt hands start to feel clammy at the thought of having to start so soon in this new job. 

Kiku hasn’t actually met anyone from the _Bureau of Paranormal Investigations_ before tomorrow; there was one person at San Francisco specifically representating the Bureau throught the FBI recruitment office that he met after Lars had set up a meeting with them to persuade Kiku to join. However, the agent themselves said that the Bureau was incredibly secretive, with the application having to be done in person with the agent, who delivered it to the location themselves when they returned to Washington D.C. 

Kiku felt his hand slip into the pocket of his sweatpants, feeling the soft fabric of a talisman in his hand, crinkling as he gave it a light squeeze.

The talisman, a _bujeok_ , was part of the “serious gift series” that Yong Soo had given him for his birthday (the Ouji board that he had received was currently being used as a coaster for his coffee). It was included with a clear bottle of holy water (that was apparently blessed by a priest from a local Korean church that one of Yong Soo’s friend attends) as well as an ultra rare and expensive dog treats for Pochi (that Kiku made sure to look online to ensure the product had FDA approval).

The pendant itself was easy to carry around, being a thicker, yellow sheet of paper with red Korean letters painted on top. Yong Soo had told him it was specifically a _gwisinbulchimbu_ \- a talisman that would protect against ghost attacks- and that it should protect Kiku during his line of work as long as he keeps it on his person. Kiku knew better than to question the authenticity of the talisman, or even the holy water; so long as the realm of ghosts exists, these ancient techniques from various places came from a place to aid against malicious spirits that would harm them. And the protection talismans do tend to work - well, they worked with conjunction of certain type of actions, as his mother used to do with clients who had a malicious spirit tormenting them, and the talisman would repel the haunting ghost for a while before his mother could properly cleanse them and help them pass. 

But he was sure he had caught Yong Soo looking for these talismans on Ebay...and when he asked Yong Soo on the way to the airport where he had bought the talisman, Yong Soo just told him _“don’t worry about it”_ before pulling into a Starbucks to ask Kiku what kind of fancy drink would he like before getting stuck in traffic.

The origins of the talisman may forever be a mystery, and while Kiku suspected its good fortune properties, he had to admit that the bujeok gave him comfort. It was similar to the _ofuda_ that Kiku’s family had around the house to protect their home from malicious spirits, all pieces of clothes with the kanjis scrolled along the strip in black ink made and blessed from their local shrine. His mother would keep a stack of ofuda within the dedicated space in their home, and would place it on their door every time she finished a medium session to keep their house safe; luckily, no evil spirits had attempted to enter their home.

Once Kiku finishes unpacking all of the boxes, he’ll put the _bujeok_ in his wallet so it doesn’t accidentally slip out of his pocket when he goes out. As for the holy water that Yong Soo had gifted him, he left it in the fridge, not knowing whether there was an expiration for the holiness within the water, and since he knew Pochi would try to gnaw through it if he left it out on a desk unattended.

“Arf! Arf!” Pochi barked as he bounded towards Kiku, patting his feet with a tiny paw. 

“I can’t play with you yet, Pochi,” Kiku replied, squatting down to pick up the dog with one arm, the white fuzzball being small enough to fit. “I gotta keep unpack more boxes.”

He has yet to finish putting everything together in his room, the mattress already in place with it’s bed frame, yet he needed to unpack the pillows and comforter he brought along with him, and start assembling the cabinet he had ordered and received that morning to put his clothings that were still left in the few luggages and boxes he had shipped out. The living room was less than desirable, and he had ordered a couch to come in to at least fill the space for the time being. He didn’t want to get too attached to this place or this city - if worse comes to worse and he ends up getting fired from the job, he would immediately return to San Franscisco. 

“Here,” Kiku said as he walked towards a blue box that sat on the countertop nearby, opening the flaps on the top- Yong Soo’s dog treats that are FDA approved. He pulled out a milky white bone shaped treat, waving it around to capture Pochi’s attention, who looked up with a tongue sticking out and tail wagging. “Be a good boy and eat this.”

He led Pochi out of the kitchen towards the living room, the way Pochi followed happily enduring. Kiku was glad that atleast, out of all the things he could bring with him from San Fransisco, Pochi was able to continue his life with Kiku.

_It’s just us, now..._

“Good boy! By the way, let me know if you find a ghost hanging around, alright?” Kiku said softly, leaving Pochi to attack the treat with his canines, as he silently started to make his way to his room, ready to finish unpacking. 

* * *

He slept in the next morning, taking his time to rest up, jet lag hitting him harder than he expected and forcing him to sleep at a much later hour than he normally would. With all that time, Kiku had managed to fill his closet with his clothes and organized his drawers, making it easier for him to dress himself the next morning. He made sure that he wore his most casual clothes- or as casual as he could- from his wardrobe, as per the letters command. He had slowly stopped wearing t-shirts as he continued to work to the point where shirts were reserved for the gym and his go to was a button-up, cotton shirt and a cardigan, with a pair black jeans. He was sure that with the Brooklyn Nets cap that he picked up from a random store nearby his apartment would be a stark style contrast, however, luckily the team’s colours are white and black instead of something like the Golden State Warriors’ blue and yellow. The Bureau would just have to put up with it.

Kiku inserted the address the letter told him to go on a general map app before leaving, the picture of a small store appearing with the words “Coffee Culture” written on a light up plaque with some Chinese characters written underneath. It was on the edges of Little Hong Kong/Guangdong, where the people traffic is usually sparse. The instructions from the letter told him to meet there at around 1100, which is usually the time people would start doing runs to the cafes to pick up a quick coffee; considering that it was a weekday and in the middle of winter, though, Kiku assumed that whoever his new boss would be thought there wouldn't be anyone around n that location. 

Well, in any case, he hoped that the office wouldn't mind if he brought Pochi along with him. He was, after all, a dog with heightened sense to see ghosts despite his aloof nature, and he was Kiku's right-hand man when he needed to track a ghost down. If push comes to shove, he could insist that Pochi was a much needed, one of a kind, ghost hunting equipment (which he did mention in his application form, if he remembers, so it shouldn’t be much of a surprise). He just hoped that Pochi would cope well with being around a new environment and new people; Pochi did well with ghosts, but that didn’t exactly translate well when it came to new people, or people in general. It took Yong Soo a very long time to gain Pochi’s trust, but Pochi still rarely willingly goes to him, despite Yong Soo’s doting on him. Kiku plopped Pochi in his messenger bag, the weight the dog added barely noticeable, and Kiku made his way down to _Coffee Culture_ , being mindful to wear the new boots he had bought just for New York City, as well as a scarf and gloves that he knew that the warm California beaches not preparing him for the winter up he would face on the East Coast.

He managed to get to the coffee shop without any problems, the streets being as busy as he had expected for a city, everyone rushing past each other and running across the road even when the lights turned yellow to save themselves from standing. Pochi was excited at this new environment, only his head sticking out from the bag, his tongue sticking out as he panted with excitement. The place was a bit run down, with simple brown tables set throughout the floor around the front counter that sat directly across the entrance. The tiles, which he assumed were originally white in colour, had a thin film that made the granite appear more beige-brown than white, from wear and 

"Good morning," said the young man in a deeper than expected voice, a light accent being carried in his voice. "What would you like?"

“I’ll have a, uh,” Kiku started, feeling slightly ridiculous as the young man behind the counter, whose name according to his tag is Leon, looked absolutely miserable out of his mind. Leon didn’t look like he wanted to be there, but must have had to, seemingly being the only one running the place at the moment. “Three black coffee please. All large.”

To this, the young man raised a thick eyebrow curiously, as he started to tap on the screen in front of him. “That seems like a lot of coffee for one person. You pulling some sort of all-nighter?”

“S-Something like that,” Kiku replied, not expecting him to even think, and Leon rang up the price, appearing on the screen. “I’ll pay cash.”

“Sure,” Leon replied, watching as Kiku shoved a hand into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Did you watch the game last night?”

“I’m sorry?” Kiku asked, taken aback by his question as he pulled out a solid ten. The man pointed towards his forehead, and Kiku felt his stomach drop slightly. Why didn’t he think to check the news so that he could keep it up.

“The Nets,” the man said. “Weren’t we playing against Milwaukee?” 

Kiku could feel the tips of his ears start to burn as he tried to rack through his brain for any newstands that he passed through on the way, to remember if there were any reportings of who won, but no avail, his mind was drawing a blank. Now he regrets not paying attention to sports whenever their coworkers talked about it, the names only being familiar to a certain extent. “Uh...yes that’s right. But something was wrong with my cable and I couldn’t catch the game.”

Leon stared at him for a moment, as Kiku shoved the money into his hand, a slight smirk growing on his face. “Or, was it the Celts?”

Now Kiku knew that he was messing with him, and Leon knew that he was wearing the cap for the sake of wearing a cap, and shit, was Kiku's cover blown? Kiku just nodded, trying not to let his cheeks flush as Leon gave him his change, and started to walk towards the counter behind him where the coffee machines were set up, taking three, large disposable blue cups with him, the _Coffee Culture_ logo printed black on the side. 

Kiku stood on the side, in front of the glass display of pastries they had baked for the day, taking his time looking at them. Buttered croissants, Portuguese egg tarts, Hong Kong egg tarts, mini cheesecake...a lot of fancy stuff for a really low price in a dingy little coffee shop squished between two bigger stores. But oh, how that eclair looked so nice and defined, with a glossy chocolate coat peppered with a bit of powdered sugar.

"Would you like an eclair to go with your coffee?" Leon asked from in front of the coffee machine, his head turned to the side, catching Kiku staring at an eclair for way too long, and Kiku immediately straightened himself, not wanting to appear as though he was starving. 

"Uh-" Kiku stammered, this being, what, the third time the man had caught Kiku off guard with his questions, and he gave another glance at the eclair. He would love to order it, but if whoever he was rendezvousing with was in the store watching him, they might assume Kiku wasn't their guy with an additional order. "No, it's alright."

"C'mon, you look like you want it," Leon teased, as he took three plastic lid covers and placed it each on top of a coffee cup. He gathered the three cups in his hand, Kiku finding it surprising that he was able to hold the middle cup with the two others squishing it in between, and brought it to the counter.

"It's quite alright," Kiku replied as Leon penned each of the coffee lid with a white pen, scribbling _BC3_ on each one. "I don't have any change in me."

"Since you're a newbie, it's on the house," Leon replied nonchalantly, and before Kiku could protest further, he grabbed the silver tongs nearby, picking up the eclair from the lineup delicately, slipping it into the white paper bag that sat behind the counter on a stack. 

To this comment, Kiku pulled in his eyebrows, hesitant. "Do you remember everyone who comes through here?"

"Yeah, this is a local coffee shop afterall,” Leon said. “Not some common franchise that attracts everyone. We have the occasional random folks who are in a rush to grab anything or the young kids looking for anything aesthetically pleasing, but most are regulars. Maybe if you come here often enough, you can get the regular discount we give.”

 _Ah, it’s a customer bait_ , Kiku thought, but he gave Leon a smile. “I’ll see if I can.”

 _No way I’m coming back_ , Kiku thought as he took the white bag, and started to scour the restaurant, looking for the washroom and…

This was going to be a problem.

The place nearest to the washroom was already being occupied by an elderly couple. 

Kiku stared harder at the washrooms, blinking his eyes a few times to make sure there wasn’t a hidden table. He walked towards the washrooms, peering around, trying not to look suspicious as he stood nearby, but the only seat was occupied by an elderly couple.

"That's a lot of coffee you got there," a voice suddenly spoke closely behind Kiku, so close in fact that Kiku almost jumped and dropped the coffee he had on the floor. Kiku spun on his heels, shoulders tense and almost shrugging, and was immediately faced with a man around his height with a pair of large sunglasses over his small nose, covering most of his beige skin, peering over them with thin, brown eyes. His face were framed by long strands of chestnaut coloured hair, which upon further glancing Kiku noticed that the rest of his hair was long and tied back in a ponytail.

“I...like coffee?” Kiku squeaked out, not expecting to have to lie right off the bat, and he prayed that he didn’t look suspicious. The man's eyes shifted from Kiku towards the coffee lid, before back at Kiku again. 

The man then glanced over to the table where the couple sat, and said in a bit of a hushed tone, “Were you about to sit there?”

Kiku felt his heart start to pound loudly at his words, mouth running dry that he had to take a big, nervous gulp to be able to make a sound. “Yes, I was…”

The man raised a thin eyebrow up, staring down Kiku. Kiku couldn’t move from his spot, unsure of whether or not this was the man he was supposed to meet with, or it was some pervert that was trying to pick him up…

“Kiku Honda, is it?” the man continued. When Kiku’s eyes widened upon hearing his name, and he nodded silently, the man gave with a small smile. “The name’s Yao. Now, I want to finish your eclair and follow me in the bathroom 10 seconds after I leave.”

Without another word, Yao walked past Kiku with a little swing, towards the left bathroom door for _Women_ that had an **‘OUT OF ORDER’** sign in front.

Kiku stood still for a moment, before he started to quietly count down in his head, rustling with the bag that he had in his hand, munching down on it at a normal pace. The eclair itself was incredible; so light and fluffy, and the chocolate cover was something he never tasted before, slightly tarty and not too sweet! Maybe he would come back to this coffee shop again....

Then he started to count. _1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10._

Kiku turned around and followed Yao into the same bathroom he went through, glancing back to make sure nobody was looking at him, especially not the cashier. Leon’s back was towards him. 

"Why are we in the bathroom?" Kiku asked frantically when he saw Yao standing with his back against the sink, Pochi giving a small bark as well as he glanced around. Yao gave a harsh _shush_ to both of them, opening each door to the stalls, peering inside. When he was satisfied with the emptiness, he took out a mini flashlight from his coat, and started to shine it through the mirrors, before moving onto the vents that laid against the wall, attempting to peer inside.

"Alright," Yao hummed as he turned off the flashlight with a quick switch, turning towards Kiku. He opened his bag, and pulled out a black tablet, holding the empty screen up to Kiku. "Give me your hand.

"Wha-?" Without any hesitation, Yao grabbed his hand and pressed it against the tablet, making Kiku flinch away, but Yao had an iron grip of his wrist. All Kiku could do was gulp and hope that if things started to head south, he still had a free hand over the pepper spray he kept in a little holster he had on his belt.

“Arf!” Pochi barked, baring its teeth noticing Kiku’s hesitation immediately, and Yao glanced over to the small dog. 

“Gah!” Yao exclaimed as Pochi gave him another angry bark, taking a step back, keeping Kiku’s hand on the tablet as he leaned the top half of his body forward. “Can you please tell your dog to be quiet?”

“Pochi, sh, sh,” Kiku said in a calmer tone, glancing over the dog, using his free hand to gently rub his head. “It’s okay. Yao is not a threat.”

 _Not yet, anyways,_ Kiku thought, as he waited for something to occur on the tablet.

A neon blue line appeared on the top of the screen, and a faint, neon blue grid fazed over the black background. The blue line started to make its way down, a light _sschhhh_ sound emitting from the screen, the line starting to bend to the shape of Kiku’s middle finger, and as it continued down it enveloped the other fingers before the palm of his hand. 

" _...Handprint accepted,”_ a feminine, robotic voice stated. “ _Please pull your hand away as we-”_

“Process your hand print,” Yao mumbled at the same times as the voice, a buffering symbol appearing on the screen. “How does Mei always do this?”

After a moment, another neon blue line appeared in the centre of the screen.

 _“Please say your first name and last name after the tone."_ The blue line fluctuated with the voice, remaining straight when the voice recording ended.

“Huh-”

“Say your full name, please,” Yao interrupted snippingly, continuously shifting his eyes around the bathroom, alert and ready to move at the slightest movement. A bright beep emitted from the tablet, the blue line remaining stagnant. 

“Kiku Honda.”

A buffering circle appeared again on the screen, while Yao, Kiku noted, tapped one of his feet on the tile impatiently. _Why is he so angry…_

“ _Welcome, Detective Kiku Honda_ ,” the robotic voice said, awfully butchering his name. “ _You are now registered in our registry. Please use these identification in order to access the Department._ ” 

A lock symbol appeared on the screen grey in colour, before Yao shoved the tablet into his bag, walking past Kiku. “C’mon.The elevator’s gonna take forever so we might as well start now.”

“Elevator?” Kiku managed to squeak out as he watched Yao immediately go in further towards the stalls, to one of the bigger ones in the end with a sign that said ‘OUT OF ORDER’ on the door in blocky red writing.

Kiku looked around the washroom one more time, trying to identify what elevatorYao was talking about, but all he saw was the sink against one wall with one of the faucets missing a knob and the air dryers against the blue and white tiled walls. 

“Well, Kiku?” Yao said, waiting at the stall, glancing back at Kiku who had stood in the same spot. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Y-you want me to go there?” Kiku asked, his voice fading towards the end, feeling the tips of his ears flush, flustered and confused as to what was happening and why Yao was ushering him to a bathroom stall of all things. What if this was not the person he was supposed to meet? What if Yao was some pervert who picked up on him not being from around Brooklyn and played along with Kiku? Why the hell else would he take Kiku to an empty bathroom and usher him into a stall-

“I know this is weird, but I’ll explain later!” Yao said, now his eyebrows shooting up and his cheeks flushing red, picking up on Kiku’s implication. Kiku immediately followed him, and Yao closed the door behind them. 

Kiku stopped in his tracks when he saw a pair of sheen, metal doors in the place where the toilet is supposed to be. A little screen sat beside the door, a similar size to the tablet the Yao had in his hands. 

“Okay, so here’s how you access the elevator,” Yao said, ushering Kiku towards the metallic frame, pointing towards the black screen. “Place the hand that you used on the tablet over this scanner. The elevator then requires you to say your name. Give it a try.”

Kiku hesitantly lifted his arm, flinching slight when the tips of his fingers touched the screen, but then pressed down gently, holding his breath. The screen lit up a lighter black, and a blue line scanned his hand. On top of the tablet, there was a green light that lit up, and a single line appeared on the screen in the middle. Kiku glanced back over to Yao, who nodded and made a ‘go ahead’ gesture with the flick of his hand. 

Kiku leaned in, and spoke in his most clear, professional voice, “Kiku Honda.”

Another green light lit up beside the previous one, and a hum suddenly followed, and the sound of wheels squeaking got closer. After a moment passed, the metallic door slid open slowly, rigid in it’s pull. Kiku stared with wide eyes as the doors revealed a small elevator space, the floors tiled white and the walls covered in a tacky, plush green. It appeared that it was big enough to fit 2-4 people inside at a time.

All of this, to say the least, was completely unexpected for Kiku. 

“Don’t get too excited about the Department,” Yao replied with a slight sigh, as if he himself was disappointed. “The office isn’t that special looking. Most of our budget goes into maintaining the coffee shop, maintaining this stupid elevator, and equipment. 

“Come on,” Yao said, his voice a bit softer and he smiled as he walked into the elevator, holding onto a button within as Kiku followed, eyes still wide. Yao slid his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a tiny key, attached to a few other keys along a ring. “This is the last step to get the elevator to go down. Without all three green lights, the elevator will not work. The Captain will give you a copy of the key.”

“All this...for an elevator,” Kiku whispered, as Yao instereted the key within a key hole that sat beside a few square buttons with arrows. When he turned the key, the key hole lit up green, and the elevators automatically (and very aggressively) closed in front of them. Yao pressed the first of the two white buttons against the wall, and the elevator started to hum, before jolting downwards, almost knocking Kiku off his feet but Yao had managed to plant his feet in place.

“Of course,” Yao said in a matter-of-fact way. “The Department of Paranormal Investigations is a very secretive department. It’s part of the FBI after all, and paranormality is an incredibly classified topic. We don’t want anyone - intentionally or unintentionally - to stumble into the Department and have files fall in the wrong hands. Imagine the mayhem people would go into if they actually knew ghosts were real.”

“I mean...wouldn’t it be better if they did know so they can receive help if they have problems?”

“Not everyone believes ghosts exist, though,” Yao replied, glancing over to Kiku. “I’m sure you know that already, though.”

 _For sure,_ Kiku thought, instantly remembering how much people would make the claim that his mother was a fraud. If those people knew the truth of ghosts and spirits, thought, to the point that there’s an entire department dedicated to investigating ghost cases...it might send the public into a mayhem. 

Mediums might be able to have more business, though.

“By the way, this coffee shop is the only way into the office,” Yao continued. “The place is government owned, thankfully, but make sure that nobody follows behind you when you enter the washroom.”

“Do the people who run it know…”

“Oh yeah,” Yao said with a grin. “There’s only two people who run the place; Leon, who you already met, and another guy named Francis. You might run into him later in the evening- he likes to come down and give us leftover pastries. Leon is usually working at the front though; he tends to keep a good eye on anyone who enters the restroom, so he’ll tell them to get out if they follow you.”

“W-wait,” Kiku replied hesitantly, feeling his cheeks flush slightly, remembering how much Leon grilled Kiku about his cap. “Did Leon already know that I was being recruited?”

“Yep; it was actually Leon’s idea for new recruits to wear that cap,” Yao replied, pointing at the Nets cap Kiku hasn’t taken off yet. Kiku immediately reached up and took off the cap, holding it as he smoothed down his hair. “He likes to mess around with newcomers too.”

“So when that guy said regulars,” Kiku said. “He meant the people working in the Department.”

“Probably,” Yao replied. “He’s a weird kid. Likes to say ominous stuff all the time. But he has a very sharp memory. He’s like a face scanner; he only needs to look at a face once and could recognize it without hesitation. He remembers who the workers and civilians are. Not that, there’s many workers to begin with.”

“How many are there?” 

“Hm,” Yao pulled his brown, thinking for a second. “Excluding me and the Captain...Only about 25 other people covering the entire city.”

“25?” Kiku repeated, blinking in disbelief as Yao grinned.

“Yeah, you’re going to have to get along with **everyone** ; we all work closely together and we don’t have time to hate each other and form cliques here,” Yao said, as he continued to face front. Now this is the one thing Kiku didn’t want. 

He always had a hard time making friends; the furthest he could go is being cordial with his coworkers, but he was cautious about not revealing anything that would make him too close with them. He already had to succumb to people snooping around his business as a child, he didn’t want to endure that as an adult.

But with only 27 people total working in this office, and then Kiku being added to make 28...Kiku was going to have to be extra careful around them.

Kiku glanced over to the button, still glowing orange- he wasn’t sure how much time passed on the elevator, but he assumed that she should have reached the floor by now. Yao was right about the elevator; not wonder he wanted to get the identification process out of the way as soon as he could.

Pochi was panting excitedly as he looked around, his body fidgeting within the bag. Kiku noticed Yao looking curiously at the puppy, observing it with intent, and Kiku couldn’t read the expression on his face...it seemed like he had a small, enduring smile on his face.

“Is it okay if I can keep Pochi out of my bag in the office?” Kiku asked, and Yao almost immediately snapped his eyes forward, a slight blush forming on his cheeks.

So the short-tempered Yao has a soft spot for dogs...Kiku wondered if he had a soft spot for animals in general.

“It should be alright,” Yao replied. “Like I said, we don’t have that many people working here, so there’s quite a bit of space.”

“Really,” Kiku said, a slight wonder in his tone, piquing his curiosity about the space. Was it going to look like something straight from a sci-fi book? Were the floors made of exquisite marble and the walls painted bright white? Were there futuristic machines everywhere?

“Like I said, don’t get too excited. It isn’t some Men in Black type of place, unfortunately,” Yao replied. “We can barely get a better elevator; they don’t give us enough for interior design.”

The elevator suddenly stopped, almost shaking Kiku off his feet unexpectedly, with Yao once again having planted his feet hard enough on command to stop himself from. Yao gave Kiku a small smile, his eyes twinkling, as if he was trying to hold back his laughter at Kiku almost losing balance and falling on his ass. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

The doors slid open, with Yao raising an arm for Kiku to exit first. Kiku took a step outside, but it was needless to say that the office space _was_ very disappointing to look at. It was set up just as any office space in the precinct did, with a desk area and a kitchen space on the side, but it looked worse. It didn’t even look like the precinct in San Francisco, which he thought had poor maintenance; the office looked like it hadn’t been renovated in a century, everything looking old fashioned except for the technology, creating a juxtaposed between the wooden, antique desks with the sleek, black sheen of the computers. 

Hell, the desks themselves weren’t even matching; as he stepped in further, he noticed that some desks were actually metallic like the ones he had in his old precinct. Some of the chairs were rolling chairs, worn down with age, while some looked like the plastic chair Kiku used to use in high school, while others...was that a bean bag sitting in the corner with a couch? Did this office have a break room?

The floors were made of bland, beige tiles, the walls being painted an uglier shade of beige. Kiku noticed that around the walls that there were some parts where white wall putty was slapped on, to cover a puncture or an infestation, Kiku wasn’t sure. The ceilings were patterned with the ugly, spotty ceiling pattern, with long rectangular lights that filtered yellow through the room, with some flickering not even working, giving the room a basement feeling (well, technically it was a basement, but it was also a government office)

“Welcome to the _Department of Paranormal Investigations_!” Yao said in a cheery voice as Kiku surveyed the office, hoping that his disappointment wasn’t obvious. Pochi wiggled out of the bag he sat in and landed on the ground, his tail wagging as he looked around, more excited than how Kiku was about the new area. Kiku slipped his Nets cap inside his messenger bag, still glancing around the area. “I know it looks shitty, but you’ll get used to it! If you need more light in your work area, there’s always a lamp, so you can use that.”

Kiku didn’t respond; he didn’t know how to respond.

“Captain Kirkland,” Yao hollered into the empty space, as he reached over to a brass bell that hung from the ceiling nearby, shaking it and making it emit a god awful sound that made Kiku cringe.

The door directly across from the elevator across the office floor opened immediately, with a man slightly taller than Kiku’s exiting, wearing the blue suit that were worn by Captain’s of a police precinct, his white collar sitting on top of the lapels and black tie around the neck. The only real noticeable difference was that there were no badges on his shoulders, yet the left breast pocket of his suit was adorned by various ribbons pressed on, the words ‘Cpt. Kirkland’ etched in a metal plaque underneath the ribbon. 

The first thing Kiku noticed of the man’s physical appearance were the big, dark eyebrows that were on his face, before taking in the rest of his appearance. The closer he got, the more noticeable it was that he must do his eyebrows pretty consistently; they were more shapely than most men’s eyebrows. The man had nearly wavy, platinum blond hair, that he probably had attempted to flattened but it curled upwards, and the closer he got to Kiku, he noticed how green his eyes were- not a pale green like Lars, but more of a warm, summer grass green. The man was probably a decade or two older than Kiku, Kiku wasn’t sure, but he knew that he was older than Kiku by a bit. 

“Wang, you don’t need to ring that _every_ single you need my attention,” the blond man said in a steady, punctuated voice, his furrowed eyebrows softening as he marched up to Kiku and Yao, with Yao giving a slight wave of the hand.

“If you didn’t want me to ring it, then we should take it out, but since our budget goes into repairing that stupid elevator, I guess we can’t take it out safely,” Yao replied with slight sass in his voice, as he gestured towards Kiku, who felt his back straighten out, glancing over at Yao in bewilderement by way he spoke to a clearly superior officer. “Here is our new recruit, just as you ordered from San Franscisco!”

“You don’t have to word it like that,” the man sighed, as if he was used to this type of attitude from Yao, before glancing around. “Where’s Mei? I thought I sent her to retrieve Mr. Honda.”

“Yeah, about Mei,” Yao replied, quickly rubbing the nape of his neck, giving a quirked smile. “I needed her to look into the history of a building for me for my case so...she told me to pick him up instead. Which reminds me, I have to go find her! It was nice meeting you Kiku!”

With that, Yao slid behind Kiku towards a long hallway with a quick step, not looking back. The man’s lips retracted slightly, forming a thin line, as if trying to hold back saying something to Yao. He instead turned his attention to Kiku, lifting a hand towards him, which Kiku accepted, returning a firm handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Honda. I am Captain Arthur Kirkland. I hope Yao gave you a warm welcome.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Captain,” Kiku returned, giving a small smile. “Yao was kind to me, yes. Told me a bit about the Department.”

“I hope they were good things,” Captain Kirkland replied with a smile, and Kiku had to force himself to not falter his smile, knowing that it was the exact opposite just a few moments ago. Captain Kirkland’s eyes shifted down towards the ground, where Pochi was sitting nearby, hiding behind Kiku. “Is the dog you use for ghost hunting that you described in your application?”

“Yes, sir. This is Pochi,” Kiku replied, Pochi’s tail wagging faster when he heard his name, though he continued to stare intently at Captain Kirkland, suspiciously. “I know it’s unusual to have a dog in the workplace, but he really does help me track down spirits. Is that alright?”

“Well, he seems very well-behaved so far,” Captain Kirkland hummed, bending down slightly to give Pochi his hand, allowing him to sniff it gently, before he retracted back behind Kiku’s leg. “We don’t have specific regulations for animals, but as long as they are well-behaved and trained, there’s no problem keeping him here. Let’s go into my office, and we can discuss more about the _Department_ and what your role will be in our organization. I already have a partner assigned to you as well; he’s waiting inside.”

 _Fun, a partner,_ Kiku thought as he followed the Captain’s steps towards his office, feeling his heart starting to beat louder in anticipation as he crossed the floor. Despite the appearance of the office, it didn’t have much of a smell; Kiku expected it to smell like mold and water damage. 

He wasn’t sure how to feel about the whole ordeal and the environment he was in - he wasn’t as enchanted as he thought he would be, and he was less nervous than he thought he would be - however, the more he looked around, he expected to feel at least a bit comfortable as time went by. He wasn’t sure how to feel about the coworker environment was going to be either - there was no one around the office, seemingly having gone off to do their own thing, and the one he did meet was a bit temperamental, but now he knew that they do they’re own thing, regardless of whether the Captain approved or not. And Kiku liked rules and regulation; it made his life easier just to follow commands.

But Kiku _was most definitely_ not sure how to feel as he entered the Captain’s bureau and saw a young, attractive man, no more than in his mid-20s, with copper skin and short dirty blond hair, looking up towards them from his seat on the low couch. The brunette quickly closed the book he had in his hands - Kiku noted the title _The Report on Unidentified Flying Objects_ \- and he took off his rectangular glasses, tucking it in his shirt.

“Honda,” Captain Kirkland started, gesturing towards the man, who stood up immediately. “I would like you to meet Alfred Jones. He’ll be your partner during your time here. Jones- this is Kiku Honda, our newest transfer from San Francisco.”

A smile crept up on the man’s face, his blue eyes squinting and creasing, as he walked up to Kiku. The height difference was immediately noted, with the brunette almost hovering over Kiku, craning his neck slightly to look him in the eye.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones,” Kiku immediately said, unhesitating to show his confidence, shaking the man’s hand with a firm grip. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Pochi watch Alfred carefully, his little tail wagging- a rare sight for a dog who was afraid of most things other than spirits.

“Alfred is just fine,” he replied, a spark in his eye, and Kiku felt himself heat up at the sound of his voice - bright and confident, yet subtly low. “So you’re the one who claims to talk to ghosts?”

“Yes, I am,” Kiku replied, and the dwelling sensation that he had tried to stomach down surged through his body, but it wasn’t anxiety.

It was anticipation to start a new chapter in life, a chapter where he wasn’t a freak and could finally prove to himself that he was worth something.


End file.
